Palpitations
by Verasque
Summary: That amorous and fine strung tension was a dangerous game when played between an adolescent prince and his oh-so-innocent squire.


Edit (27/08/08): I've combined all the drabble entries into one chapter.

Disclaimer: all characters from SOTL are the property of Tamora Pierce

-

**PALPITATIONS**

-

**Drabble One: Malfunction**

Something was very wrong with her.

It had started since she had left the Black City with Jonathan a week ago, wearing only his tunic and a semi-weariness at the knowledge that the prince knew her secret.

During the week long ride home to Corus, Alanna found that she couldn't stop looking at her tall friend every hour. Each time he turned to her, she would feel that annoying phantom butterfly flap its wings inside her stomach. She couldn't even talk straight, thus causing the strange expressions on Jonathan's face each time.

Something must have malfunctioned in her female system.

-

**Drabble Two: Breathless**

He was almost too scared to breathe.

Alan, no, _Alanna _of Trebond was going to be his first squire. Uncle Gareth was one page away from asking Alanna to recite her oath in front of everyone. He couldn't understand where this nervousness was coming from for he had long been preparing for this day.

All of a sudden Uncle Gareth was beside Alanna, and Jon was standing opposite the red-head whom barely reached his shoulder and was staring awkwardly at his chest. At the last word, she looked up shyly and purple met blue, and so Jonathan's breath was stolen.

-

**Drabble Three: Unsupervised**

She hadn't comprehended how different her new accommodation would be compared to the pages' quarters. Both Raoul and Alex had helped her bring her stuff to her new room, while Gary was with his cousin scouring for food to sneak into her and Jonathan's new abode.

Raoul and Alex were snooping around both rooms, their snickers echoing. Alone in her room for a minute, she became dully aware of the fact that the squires (with their masters) were spread out in the palace. Looking at the adjoining door, she realised that Jon and her would be alone and completely unsupervised.

-

**Drabble Four: Nightmare**

The female scream caused him to crash into the side of his bed in fright.

Regaining his composure, he scrambled up, unlocked the connecting door and burst into the room at the opposite side. A wide-eyed Alanna sat upright on her bed, her eyes terrible with fear and the sheets all twisted to one side of her cot.

Gently, he sat on the edge of her bed, being a source of comfort whilst averting his eyes from the length of exposed fourteen-year-old leg. He guessed it wasn't so bad that he had tried sneaking in silently to his room earlier.

-

**Drabble Five: Violet**

Alanna hated the colour violet.

Her own rare amethyst orbs attracted more attention than she wanted. It was the colour of Thom's eyes, and as much as she loved her brother, she bitterly cursed him at that very moment for being the male twin. Because had _she_ been the son, she wouldn't be in this predicament and drowning in the ill feelings she was harbouring. She wouldn't be feeling these emotions only females were known for. Helene of Cria had Jonathan mesmerised, and her brilliant purple gown dipped far too low on her chest.

Alanna _really_ loathed the colour violet.

-

**Drabble Six: Queen**

He'd had this new sword for nearly six months. It was his best. Strong, sleek and an absolute gem. Never had he lost any battle with this blade. It was a gift from his mother on his nineteenth birthday. Even his father had been shocked when his delicate wife had presented their son with the outstanding weapon. The King asked Jon if he had a name for it. Jon was amused at first. Name his sword? Who would really do that?

_Alanna._

A fine name fit for the Crown Prince's shining blade, a symbolic gift from the Queen of Tortall.

-

**Drabble Seven: Movement**

In a war and _waitingwaitingwaiting!_ For Jon, Myles or any of her other friends that were out in the battle. Several bitten nails later… Jon stumbled into the tent swaying.

Alarmed, she searched for injuries and found his tunic ripped towards his lower back. Ignoring Jon's reassurances that it was _only a small scuff_, she rushed to his side to examine the harm done to her knight-master. But Jon moved, and instead of tunic and blood, she felt a different part of his body than intended, blood rushing to her cheeks the same time they both froze in horrified shock.

-

**Drabble Eight: Flowing (drabble 7 cont…)**

The only thing running in his mind was _holyholyholy_. He, no doubt, had an appalled/dumbfounded/awed/tight and /downright confused expression gracing his usually placated face. Staring straight at the tent wall, he willed his body not to react, whilst _she_ was right by his side, breath suspended and immobilised and _Mithros!herhandisstillthere!_ He stupidly wondered if this happened with all knight-masters and their female squires. Trying to revive his heart, he coughed loudly (but it came out a nervous splutter) and the air moved as she gasped then flung her hand off him in horror. Tunic nor injury got tended that day.

-

**Drabble Nine: Possession**

Sound became louder in her ears, and she promptly bit her upper lip. The knights and squires around her seemed to have faded away from her attention as Jon approached the table she shared with their friends. She scooted over, so that the only empty space on this side would be on the end.

She attempted to cover her smile as Jon slipped in beside her, causing the rest of the occupiers of the now cramped bench to protest. Ignoring them, Jon passed his bread roll to his squire, who subconsciously and willingly (for the first time) buttered it generously.

-

**Drabble Ten: Replacement**

Delia was draped all over his arm. He masked his disgust yet acknowledged the cunning intelligence behind her eyes. She was a very beautiful woman, and Jonathan realised then that she had just been a replacement for another girl.

But now, Alanna was grown up, no longer a child but a young woman who was starting to mirror back his own feelings. Many a time he had imagined what it would be like to run his lips over her throat, to curl his hand around her spine and pull her in closer to his body.

He needed to leave _now_.

-

**Drabble Eleven: Soul**

She wondered why she reacted so differently to Jon than with George. George made her heart race and her body relax at the safety and warmth he exuded. The Rogue had made her lips tingle and her toes curl when he had kissed her. She found a sense of contentment with him.

With Jon, a racing heart wasn't enough. There was a deafening irregular pounding, as if her heartbeats couldn't catch up with one other. **Palpitations**, Duke Baird explained. Jon's kiss made her shiver ablaze, and _his being_ touched that part of her that wasn't connected to body or mind.

-

**Drabble Twelve: Entirety**

Was this what happiness was? Recognising that smirk when she was about to make an outrageous lie, distinguishing the wrinkling of her nose when using magic, or knowing beforehand exactly what she was going to say? Or was this just the result of being her best friend of many years?

But what about that grin, that grimace and that gratefulness that he never failed to experience anytime between her bitter _I'm out of line, Highness _to her awkward whisper of _Can you touch me here?_ He craved her anger and spite as much as he craved her affection and passion.

-

**Drabble Thirteen: Sapphire**

She hid her face into the book as she squished up in the darkest corner she could find in the library. Curling up tighter, she closed her eyes and tried to block everything out. But her memory drifted back to the previous evening, to the silent stillness of her room where nothing was heard except her ragged breathing.

Jon's sapphire eyes had stared at her for a long moment, before he dipped his head and pressed his mouth between her thighs. The silence had been shattered by her moans, ecstasy holding her prisoner in the absolute darkness of the room.

-

**Drabble Fourteen: Reverence**

He was on fire. His skin felt like molten lava, and the very centre of his maleness strained hard and tight. It was nearing the hour when late evening met early morning, the same time as always this past week, a symbol of them – cyclically connecting forever the beginning and the end. As she reached for his shoulders, he whispered her name in reverence and finally made them one.

The years and moments leading up to this fazed into one emotion, one existence, one everything. Friendship, affection, pleasure, love, forbidden, _real._ It was a raw intensity that swallowed them whole.

-

**Drabble Fifteen: Utterly**

The collision of the practise swords shook her arm. It seemed to touch the connecting nerves that led to her legs, and they gave way as she wobbled. The surprise she felt was reflected in Douglass' shocked face. Never had Alan been fazed nor beaten in a practise duel (except by Sir Alex). Unsure of the situation, Douglass came to a halt and asked if she was alright.

Slightly baffled, she speculated that she was either out of shape (very unlikely) or perhaps sick. Hearing a chuckle, she whirled to the benches surrounding the court perimeter and found Jonathan sprawled lazily. Glaring so hard, she almost missed the mischievous wink he sent her way. Her glare soon turned to enlightenment and she gawked as she realised that she was neither unfit nor unwell. In fact, if she was to identify the blame for her little stumble, she'd point her finger at the conceited prince across from her without question.

And then he smiled at her, and she growled. They both knew he was cheating. Palpitations were no longer enough. She had gone beyond that. What she felt now was stronger and more consuming. Annoyingly but utterly, she was in love.


End file.
